


Queen of Hearts

by RaiWalk



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Gift Fic, Lich Queen Jaina Proudmoore, Short One Shot, including fucking, thrones are good for many things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiWalk/pseuds/RaiWalk
Summary: At the time, he had regretted it.Now, he sits on his throne, and she sits on hers.“Good knight,” she praises.
Relationships: Arthas Menethil/Jaina Proudmoore
Kudos: 8





	Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gracklewarp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracklewarp/gifts).



“I will eat your heart out.”

Blue lips smile at him. Delicate fingers slide over the back of his hand, over his wrist and up his arm. He watches its path, then his gaze flicks up her throat, her chin, into sparkling eyes and white hair matching his own.

“What do you say, Arthas?”

She sits in his lap like it’s her own personal throne, like her right of existence. Not like he minds it, no-- in the distant part of what’s left of his soul, he rejoices in the one presence he would have missed above all others.

“From here,” she pats his chest with a finger, “Carve it out and devour.”

Not Uther, who, at the first sign of a difficult decision, had run. Not Muradin, who had backed away from power. Not his father, more concerned with power than the people.

“Would you like a fire to cook it?” he offers, smiling like the crack of a glacier.

She laughs, wicked and sharp, shifting her ripped skirt and properly straddling him. His cock is caught beneath her, his breath hitching as the lips of cunt catch on his skin, already slick and hot. The one warmth that is not taken from them.

“And remove the better taste?” she asks sweetly, “No, no, I will eat it raw for you to watch.”

At the time, he had regretted it. Neither Uther nor Jaina had wanted Stratholme purged, but once Uther had ran… he had asked Jaina to help him think of another way. Hesitantly, she had followed him in. The horrors of the city had been too much.

“T’would ease the flesh for your bite,” he raises a hand, letting it hover over her cheek, “Look redder, like an apple.”

She _had_ killed, he knows. He’d carried her out, catatonic, from the city. The entire company tired, defeated, cursing the dreadlord. All his men had thought the same, had taken turns caring for the mage. Arthas had seen in their eyes, the anger over the necessity.

“Don’t patronize me,” she wags a finger in his face, even as she leans into his hand, icy eyes half-closed, “You know better.”

He’d wanted to leave her in the continent, had made arrangements so she’d be cared for in her catatonic state-- until he had near finalized the arrangements for Northrend. The ships ready to sail, and she had come, dark shadows under her eyes, and told him she would go to Northrend. With or without him.

“Never,” he raises her other hand and kisses her knuckles, reverent in a manner he’d never given thought to before, “My Queen asks, and I oblige.”

He had returned with Frostmourne, without Muradin, and her eyes had fallen on the sword and darkened. She’d gripped the pommel, looking into his eyes, and smiled grimly. Their company had followed her example, saluting him, and they hunted down Mal’ganis.

“Do you?” her blue lips are temptation, and he can feel her lust as if it was her own-- their souls pressed together by the powers of the sword, entangled blissfully, painfully, “My insolent Knight.”

The storms of Northrend were rather bearable to wander with Jaina. Much easier to navigate with his men dispersing through the land.

“My heart cracks,” she uses his hand as support to raise herself, flippantly positioning his cock, and then sinking back down, watching him gasp and shudder avidly, “...my Queen should eat it before it breaks.”

She laughs in his face, setting a languid pace and humming in her own pleasure. She is warm inside, fitting like a glove, warming his ice cold cock. Her skirt rustles, and he slowly palms her knees and thighs. While her gaze is sharp, she doesn’t slap his hands away. He counts it a victory.

“Liar,” she says, smiling, “Your heart hasn’t ever cracked.”

True, he supposes, leaning back on the throne and footing a piece of his armor away as he opens his knees further. His fingers dig into her ass, enough force to leave bruises that he knows will turn her temper on him. He raises one of her knees over his elbow, helping her movement and rolling his hips up into her.

“So little faith in me,” he sneers, amused.

She laughs in his face again, a laugh enmeshed with moans as she sinks her nails into his chest and tightens her cunt on his cock. She keeps laughing at him as he fucks into her a bit more, before pushing her hips tightly to his, cock embedded deep and marking her insides.

“I will devour your heart,” she says again, slapping his hands away from her skin and standing. He leans back, cock glistening with her slick and resting against his belly. Interestedly, he notes his cum dripping to the ground.

“You’ve done so already, beloved,” he runs his hand over his cock, watching as she looks down her nose at him, “Is there still anything to devour?”

She considers him for a moment, stepping back close and pressing the pad of her finger against his cockhead. Her smile is all teeth. “You wouldn’t let me go hungry, would you?”

“Of course not,” he again reaches for her hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, “My heart is yours to eat.”

“Good knight,” she praises, fingers leaving ice on his shoulders as she climbs back into his lap. This time, she directs his hand to her clit, her gaze a promise that if she doesn’t come before him, he will suffer for it.

He’s not fool enough to truly anger her. Rubs circles over her clit, runs his hand over her waist and raises her top so he can thumb at her nipple, making her jolt and pant on his lap. Fucking her into an orgasm is all he wants, and he drags it out until she’s wailing, tightening on him.

(The Argent Crusade is climbing the Citadel, they know. Walking into a trap, into their deaths.

If they find the Lich Queen and Death King in a compromising position? None of them will live to talk.

And the Undead are theirs to command into silence.)


End file.
